


loosen up my buttons, babe

by funsizedshaw



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 13 is a brat, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/F, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Strap on blowjobs, Temperature Play, all aboard the top!yaz train, god these tags lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funsizedshaw/pseuds/funsizedshaw
Summary: “Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Doctor?”“Don’t have any money Yaz. Never do.”“Y’know that’s not what I meant. Let’s make a bet.”The Doctor grins. Oh this is going to be good.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	loosen up my buttons, babe

**Author's Note:**

> this is just approx 5k of pure smut with zero plot so have fun <3 
> 
> title from buttons by pussycat dolls, which is also the song i wrote most of this to so if you want something to listen to while reading, i'd suggest that

It had started, as most things do, with the Doctor accidentally (on purpose) insulting humans. And in this case, specifically Yaz.

She had just wanted to do something nice after a series of near death adventures on the heels of what had been a very tiring week of parking disputes for Yaz, who’d recently decided that she needed to be more serious about her career.

So the Doctor, in a stroke of genius, had asked Ryan and Graham if they would mind if she took Yaz on a date. She had the perfect planet in mind. One that she was absolutely sure would make Yaz more relaxed than she’s ever been in her life.

Turns out a full body massage followed by an...internal massage wasn’t really what Yaz was expecting.

“I’m so sorry Yaz!”

The Doctor is leaning against the console, pouting as she watches Yaz pace up and down in front of her.

“I almost put her in a choke hold when she tried to put her fingers _inside_ me, Doctor!”

“I thought you’d understand when I said they offered the _Full Relaxation Package_! And they call it a _happy_ ending on Earth! It’s supposed to make you happy!”

Yaz groans.

“That’s not- I mean you’re not technically wrong, but-”

She shakes her head, as if deciding it’s not worth it, and walks over to stand in front of the Doctor instead. She loops her arms around the Doctor’s waist and pulls her in.

“Thank you for trying to make me happy. It backfired spectacularly, but thank you.”

The Doctor pouts even more. Yaz giggles. She leans in, lips just shy of touching the Doctor’s. “Stop being all mardy. I already told you, you make me happy just by being here.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No Doctor, I’m really not. It were a very sweet thing for you to try to do,” Yaz leans in to kiss her softly before she pulls back with a smirk. “Although maybe next time, just check in with me if you wanna bring a third person into our sex life, okay?”

“It’s not sex, Yaz! It’s just a relaxation method!”

Yaz eyes her incredulously. “I don’t know ‘bout you but where I come from, someone else giving you an orgasm is sex.”

“You humans and your modesty,” she huffs.

Yaz sputters. “And what, you’re a full blown exhibitionist, are you?”

The Doctor goes bright red.

“N-no! I just meant. I don’t really care about nudity the way you do. The me before this didn’t really like sex but it weren’t modesty or anything like that. He were just like that.”

Yaz is smirking, amused with the way she’s rambling with her face tomato red.

This will not do, the Doctor thinks. She scrambles to level the playing field.

“Just admit it Yaz, you’re a prude. Compared to you maybe I am an exhibitionist, eh?”

Yaz cocks an eyebrow. _“_ Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Doctor?”

“Don’t have any money Yaz. Never do.”

“Y’know that’s not what I meant. Let’s make a bet.”

The Doctor grins. Oh this is going to be good.

“Love a bet! Name your terms, PC Khan.”

________________________

The Doctor swallows as she stands in front of the Earth club, nerves and anticipation coiling deep in her gut. She’s been looking forward to this all week but now that she’s actually about to go through with it her heart is jack hammering in her chest.

She feels a hand on the small of her back, and a comforting presence by her side.

“Y’alright, Doctor?”

The Doctor nods. She focuses all her attention on the warmth of Yaz’s arm around her waist, breathing her perfume in deep and letting it anchor her.

Yaz moves to stand in front of her, slightly taller in heels. She rubs up and down the Doctor’s arms in a way that she knows calms her. “We can leave at anytime. Including right now.”

The Doctor smiles up at her, absolutely loving the height difference. “Scared you’ll lose our bet?”

“With your track record? Never. But, just to humour me, remind me about the safe words we went over again please?”

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down and check in, and green for everything is perfect. And I’m green now. Bright green.”

Yaz grins, leans forward and kisses her on the nose. “Good girl.”

She clenches reflexively at the praise, knowing undoubtedly that she’s ruined her underwear before they’ve even stepped into the club. Yaz smirks down at her and – _god_ – she’s about to ruin her trousers too if she doesn’t get a grip.

Yaz lets her hands slide down to her backside, pulling her flush against her hips. The Doctor gasps when she feels something hard bump up against her front. She looks down between them and back up at Yaz.

“Y’wearing it?”

Yaz hums in assent, pulling her in tighter as she leans down to capture the Doctor’s lips with her own, taking the opportunity to grind her hips against her as she kisses her thoroughly. Her hands squeeze possessively and the Doctor feels a fresh wave of arousal course through her.

When they pull apart, the Doctor barely has time to recover before Yaz is holding a hand out expectantly.

“Coat.”

She gulps. This is it. The point of no return.

She shrugs it off and is left in the outfit Yaz had picked out for her tonight. The black fitted trousers and boots are normal enough, but the pièce de résistance is a black shirt dotted with sparkly stars and so sheer it’s literally transparent. She’s got a black lace bra underneath and Yaz eyes it appreciatively.

“Can’t wait to get that off. C’mon.”

She follows Yaz into the club, not too sure whether Yaz is referring to the bra or the shirt. Both. Probably both.

Yaz moves through the club like she knows exactly what she’s doing, the Doctor trailing along for once, taking in the numerous inebriated party goers in various states of undress.

Nobody really pays attention to them except a couple of glances shot the Doctor’s way, taking in her revealing outfit. She’s unused to such attention in this body, always covered in her coat and long sleeves, and is pleasantly surprised to find she likes it. Is enjoying it, truly.

She notices one woman look between her and Yaz, smirk at the way she’s being led by Yaz, grasping her hand and pulling her through the crowd.

 _It’s like Yaz is showing me off,_ she thinks. It sends a rush of heat through her, and a series of images flash through her head, each more pornographic than the last.

Fuck.

She swallows a whimper, wanting to cling on to some modicum of control before Yaz takes it all entirely.

“You’ve been here before,” she says instead, settling into the booth next to Yaz.

“Once or twice,” Yaz hums as she slides an arm around her waist and leans in for another kiss. It’s so soft and sweet it’s almost easy to forget they’re in some fetish club on Earth, with the Doctor very much at Yaz’s mercy.

Until Yaz breaks the kiss to fix her with a predatory look. “Now,” she muses, “what should I do with you first?” She drags her eyes across the Doctor’s body, hungrily taking in the sight before her.

The Doctor gulps.

Yaz slides her hand down from where it’s resting on her waist and slips past the band of her trousers to tug lightly on the Doctor’s underwear.

“Bet these are already soaked, hm? Go to the toilet, take them off, and bring them back to me.”

The Doctor’s throat goes dry. She nods jerkily. “Okay.”

She nearly trips in her haste to get out of the booth and her cheeks flame red as she hears Yaz chuckle behind her.

Miraculously managing to make it to the toilets without face planting onto the floor, she slips into a stall.

Her baby blue boxers are sheer lace and she groans softly as the gusset peels away from her cunt, betraying just how wet she is.

She’s aching with arousal and wants so incredibly badly to run her fingers through herself, swipe at her clit, even. But a bet is a bet and she loves a good competition.

Also, Yaz didn’t say she could touch herself. And even though she won’t admit it yet, she wants so desperately to be good for Yaz.

Tugging her trousers back up and stuffing the lace into a pocket, she quickly walks back out before she can be tempted to do anything else.

Logically, she’s aware no one other than Yaz knows what she’d been doing in there, but the thought that she’s walking around in public without her underwear because her girlfriend had told her to sends warm waves of arousal washing over her. She squirms, squeezing her thighs together as she crosses the dance floor, wrestling past drunken dancers and couples making out.

Her blush deepens when Yaz spots her approach and stretches out an open hand for her to drop the soaked fabric onto.

She goes to slide back into the booth when Yaz reaches out to cup her possessively between her legs. The Doctor gasps, gripping onto the seat tightly, eyes closed and breathing hard.

Yaz gives her a squeeze that has her outright moaning and gritting her teeth to keep her knees from buckling.

After what feels like eternity but is probably just a few seconds, Yaz lets go.

“Looked like you were about to come in your pants there, Doctor. And we’ve barely even started.”

She hurriedly shakes her head in dissent. “Not wearin pants anymore, am I? And I’m goin to win.

“Y’sure?” Yaz makes a show of looking at her watch. “You need to last another 3 hours without coming or tapping out.”

“I remember the terms of our bet, Yaz.” She’s very proud of the way her voice absolutely does not shake.

“Alright, just checking. Can you go get us waters please? Iced.”

The Doctor murmurs her assent, going over to the bar. She’s pretty sure she knows why Yaz specified the ice, and she shivers in anticipation.

Her suspicions are confirmed when she gets back and Yaz immediately fishes out an ice cube from a glass. Knowing what’s going to happen isn’t enough to prepare her however, and she _squeaks_ when Yaz slips a hand into her trousers and a jolt of sharp cold presses against her clit.

She bites the inside of her mouth hard, whimpering but staying as still as she can with her legs spread as Yaz holds the ice cube to her clit for a good couple of seconds.

Yaz smirks, drinking in her whimpers and gasps. “Thought you needed to cool down a little. Can’t have you coming too soon, can we?”

Her hand is still inside her pants, not pressing against her clit anymore but close enough for the Doctor to feel the chill.

“Thought you were meant to be making me lose, Yaz. Not helping me,” she challenges. If she knows Yaz as well as she does, she’ll rise to it.

Sure enough, Yaz cocks an eyebrow, smirk morphing into a dangerous expression. Before the Doctor can react, she’s shoved the ice cube into her cunt.

She gasps loud into Yaz’s ear.

Yaz pinches her clit.

“Ow, fuck!”

Yaz’s fingers tighten. She twists, slowly.

“Yaz!”

Yaz loosens her grip imperceptibly. She smirks. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The Doctor narrows her eyes at Yaz, grinning back as best she can with delicious pain still shooting through her clit.

“You love me cocky.”

Yaz rolls her eyes and leans in to kiss her, softly stroking her clit as she does so. She moans into Yaz’s mouth, doing her best not to buck up into her hand. The ice cube inside her is freezing but it only serves to turn her on more, knowing that Yaz put it there.

When she finds herself teetering on the edge, she pulls back reluctantly.

“Yaz, Yaz ‘m gonna come if you keep touching me.”

She still pouts when Yaz pulls her hand out of her trousers, though. It’s a reflex she can’t help.

Yaz hums, seemingly thinking about how she wants to torture her next, even though the Doctor knows she has meticulously planned the night out beforehand.

She watches Yaz, excited for what’s coming. Could be anything, really. Except for her. She’s pretty sure Yaz plans on keeping her on edge all night, way past the 3 hour mark.

The thought sends a thrill of excitement through her. Orgasms are good, sure, and winning bets is even better, but she wants to please Yaz, to be so _good_ for her, to meet every challenge Yaz throws her way head on.

When Yaz pulls out a familiar looking pouch from her pocket, she grins.

Yaz hands it to her. “You know what to do. Colour?”

“Green. Be right back!”

She hears Yaz laugh at her childish enthusiasm for nipple clamps of all things and beams proudly to herself as she walks away. She doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of hearing that laugh, or being the one responsible for it.

The clamps are small and tight, sending little pinpricks of pain shooting through her every time she moves. She’s flushed and panting by the time she’s made her way through the throng of people on the dance floor and back to Yaz.

It’s completely worth it for Yaz’s reaction when she lays eyes on her. The Doctor knows she’s a sight to behold, having taken off her bra, and her translucent shirt hiding absolutely nothing. Her nipples are hard and straining between the clamps, and the silk brushes tantalisingly against them with every step.

Yaz reaches out and flicks sharply at a nipple and the Doctor whines, instinctively arching her back, pushing her chest out.

Yaz smirks and reaches up with both hands, lightly toying with her clamped nipples over her shirt.

“Touch yourself for me, Doctor. Don’t come.”

The Doctor obediently thrusts her hand into her trousers, frantically rubbing at her clit while Yaz lazily fondles her chest. It doesn’t take long for her to get to the edge, and she whines when she has to force herself to stop so she doesn’t fall over.

She leaves her hand in her pants, cupping herself lightly, and slumps back in her seat, watching Yaz continue to play with her tits.

Yaz hums. “I think I want my mouth on you.”

The Doctor nods eagerly. She has no idea which part of her Yaz wants to put her mouth on but she’d be happy with anything. She just wants Yaz to keep touching her, to never stop touching her.

Yaz sits back, getting herself comfortable. “Come sit on my lap, Doctor.”

Pulling her hand out of her pants, she shuffles over, straddling Yaz’s lap, groaning softly as she feels the strap-on beneath Yaz’s pants.

Yaz smiles up at her. “Having fun?”

She pushes her forehead against Yaz’s, almost cat-like. “Very much. You’re brilliant, y’know that? We should make more bets.”

Yaz settles her hands on her waist, pushing her hips down firmly. She takes the hint and starts slowly grinding her cunt down on the hard bulge.

Yaz lets her continue, moving her hands up to the top button of her shirt. “Glutton for punishment, aren’t you? Always making bets you know you’re gonna lose.”

The Doctor wants to reply with a snarky remark. She really does. But Yaz’s voice has taken on that lightly scolding tone she adopts when she really wants to make the Doctor suffer and she is so, so weak for that tone. She swallows, watching Yaz with wide eyes.

“Think you can get off like this? Humping my strap?”

Something about the word _humping_ sends hot sparks of desire straight to the Doctor’s clit and she moans, rocking her hips just a tad harder. “Yea, think I can.”

“Good girl. No coming yet though. For every edge you reach, I’m going to unbutton a button of your shirt. If I get it fully unbuttoned, you can come tonight.”

She gulps, looking down at her shirt. Yaz tilts her chin up with a finger. “Colour, Doctor?”

“Green.”

“Then stop trying to count your buttons and trust me. Okay?”

She nods. “Yea, okay Yaz.”

Yaz cups her jaw, pulling her in for a soft kiss. It’s one of her favourite things. The gentle kisses Yaz gives her when they’re playing like this. The juxtaposition of sweetness and hard dominance reaches deep into her and tugs on something buried far beneath the surface. The knowledge that she’s safe, that Yaz has got her, that Yaz will take care of her. It’s unfamiliar but not odd, and the Doctor embraces it like she’s been yearning for it all her lives.

(Maybe she has.)

Yaz breaks the kiss when it’s clear the Doctor’s too distracted to kiss properly, letting her moan open mouthed against her lips.

Hips stuttering erratically, she whimpers as she reaches her first edge, stilling immediately to force herself away from the forbidden precipice.

Yaz surprises her by unbuttoning one of the middle buttons on the Doctor’s shirt instead of the top one like she’d expected. She smirks, reaching her hand past the soft material, loosening and pulling a clamp off in one practiced movement.

The Doctor gasps, lurching forward in combined pain and pleasure as the blood surges back to her abused nipple. She hisses into Yaz’s shoulder, grinding with renewed vigour, desperate to get to the edge again.

“Fuck fuck fuck, _Yaz._ ”

“I’m here Doctor, go on, you’re doing so well.”

The praise propels her straight into a second edge, and she lets out a litany of swears, muffled against Yaz’s shoulder.

Yaz pushes her back into an upright position with a finger to her collarbone, smirking as she takes in the Doctor’s dishevelled appearance, looking thoroughly fucked while Yaz sits there, nary a hair out of place.

“You’re so scruffy. Scruffy and messy. And all for me, at that.”

The finger on her collarbone drags down the Doctor’s chest, tugging lightly at her flimsy buttons, as Yaz ponders her next move.

It shouldn’t be that hot when Yaz flicks a button open with one hand but it somehow is, and the Doctor finds herself automatically humping the hard length pressed against her core again as the top of her shirt falls open.

Yaz is lightly toying with the nipple that is still clamped, and the Doctor whines, wanting attention on the other side too.

“Yaz,” she pants. “Yaz, you said you wanted your mouth on me.”

“Mmm...that I did.”

“Yaz, its right there!”

Yaz chuckles. “What’s right there, Doctor?”

She huffs, still finding a way to be petulant even as she’s strung out and desperate. “My _nipple,_ Yaz.”

Yaz hums, but doesn’t make any effort to put her mouth where the Doctor so clearly wants it. Instead, she curls her free hand loosely around her throat, letting it rest there.

Tipping her head back and arching into Yaz’s touch, the Doctor keens. She needs Yaz to squeeze harder.

Yaz plays her body like a fiddle, twisting and pulling the Doctor’s nipple viciously, while her other hand remains wrapped so lightly around her throat the Doctor can barely feel it. Contrasting sensations that drive the Doctor absolutely insane.

Desperation pushes the Doctor forward, snapping her hips back and forth until the aching pressure builds up again. Her ensuing moan is cut off when Yaz suddenly squeezes, tight, stemming her airflow.

She almost doesn’t stop herself in time, caught up in the euphoria of pain-pleasure, a delicate balance of proportions Yaz has perfected.

The Doctor almost leaps off Yaz’s lap in an attempt to stop herself from coming, breathing heavily with the sheer level of control it’d taken her to stop. Yaz loosens her grip, cupping her jaw softly instead.

“Y’alright babe?”

She nuzzles into Yaz’s hand, letting the soft touch calm her racing heart. Neither of them use terms of endearment on a regular basis, but the Doctor would be lying if she said Yaz calling her that didn’t make her insides all warm and gooey.

“Just got a little too close there. Think I need a break though. Can I make you come?”

Yaz smiles and pulls her into a soft kiss. “Yea, course you can. How d’you wanna do it?”

The Doctor grins mischievously, knowing the effect her next words are about to have on Yaz.

“I want to suck you off.”

She gets the reaction she’s looking for when Yaz inhales sharply, biting her lip.

“Here? Y’sure?”

It looks like it’s taking all of Yaz’s self control not to thrust her hips up, mindful of the Doctor’s sensitive cunt, and it sends a rush of affection and love through her.

She winks and waggles her eyebrows. “Exhibitionist, remember?”

Yaz laughs as she rolls her eyes. “Incorrigible, you ar- _Oh.”_

The Doctor grins up at Yaz from where she’d dropped to her knees, a move that never fails to drive Yaz crazy. She decides to take it up a notch this time, and leans forward to unbuckle Yaz’s jeans using only her mouth.

Yaz shudders, reaching out to card a hand through the Doctor’s hair as she pulls the zipper down with her teeth.

“God- you- _Doctor_.”

She can’t resist. “Yes, me, Doctor.”

Huffing in amusement, Yaz gives her a none too gentle tug on her hair. “Get to work, brat.”

 _With pleasure,_ the Doctor thinks, as the black dildo springs up to meet her waiting mouth. She keeps her hands behind her back, knowing how much Yaz is enjoying the show.

Licking softly around the head and up the shaft, she keeps eye contact with Yaz, moaning obscenely. She doesn’t need to exaggerate, being on her knees for Yaz gives her a rush of pleasure in a way nought else does.

Yaz sits remarkably still, content to watch the Doctor’s performance, let her dictate the pace. At least for the moment.

The Doctor takes her time, wrapping her lips around the head of Yaz’s strap, not taking it in any further. She wants to drag this out, wants to push Yaz into being rough with her. It’s a waiting game, she knows. The more she teases, the rougher Yaz will reciprocate.

Breaking her self imposed no-hands rule, she reaches out for Yaz’s free hand, the one that isn’t tangled in her hair. She pulls her mouth off the cock with a pop, and looks up at Yaz, moving her hand to where her mouth was.

“Put your hand around it, please?”

Yaz looks confused, but does as she says – she did ask politely after all – wrapping her hand around the base of the strap. The Doctor uncurls two of Yaz’s fingers so they extend down the length of the cock, and the look of realisation that dawns upon Yaz’s face sends a hot rush of arousal through her entire body.

She takes it into her mouth again, and Yaz positively whines, her fingers twitching against the inside of the Doctor’s cheek.

The Doctor deliberately licks against Yaz’s fingers as she bobs her head on her cock, hollowing out her cheeks to let Yaz feel every movement.

Fingers tighten in her hair, and she feels Yaz’s hips thrust into her mouth. “God, you’re so fucking. _Good._ ”

The Doctor congratulates herself internally. Yaz cursing is a definite sign that she’s close. She makes a mental note to get one of those telepathic dildos that let the wearer feel everything. Yaz definitely deserves that.

Meanwhile she’ll just have to make up for it the best she can. She reaches out, tugging Yaz’s jeans lower so she can get to her slick core. Two fingers slip in easily, and Yaz moans as she thrusts harder into the Doctor’s mouth.

The tip of Yaz’s cock hits the back of her throat and the Doctor welcomes it, curling her fingers inside Yaz and reaching deep. She’s drowning in the heady scent of Yaz’s arousal, all around her, and she wants to exist in this moment forever.

When Yaz comes the Doctor swears she can feel it vibrating through her, shuddering and gasping, golden tendrils of euphoria forging their way into every crevice of her body and mind. Her fist tightens in the Doctor’s hair and she stutters out a string of curses, thrusting bruisingly hard into her mouth.

The Doctor diligently continues to rub at Yaz’s walls until the grip in her hair loosens and she feels Yaz slump above her. She pulls her fingers out, waiting for Yaz to open her eyes before letting the dildo, and Yaz’s fingers, slip out of her mouth while keeping eye contact.

Yaz grins, lazily petting the Doctor’s hair as she watches her with hooded eyes. The Doctor hums, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, thrumming with arousal but content to wait for Yaz to pull her up off her knees.

There’s something peaceful about being like this, she thinks. About basking in the afterglow of satisfying her companion, not having to think about what comes next, just needing to follow instructions. It’s liberating.

She nuzzles against Yaz’s knee, beaming up at her. Yaz tugs lightly on her hair in return. “C’mere.”

The Doctor clambers up eagerly, settling herself back on Yaz’s lap as Yaz holds the strap back to make space for her. She lets go and it flops back, tip smacking the Doctor just above her clit, making her whimper.

Yaz takes advantage of her momentary distraction to pull her in for a bruising kiss, hand gripping the back of her neck possessively. She licks into the Doctor’s mouth with purpose, and the Doctor sighs, utterly powerless to resist Yaz’s ministrations.

She whimpers when Yaz bites her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, immediately laving over the wound with her tongue. Her hips are humping against the strap of their own accord, the hard wet length sliding frustratingly against her slippery clit, and she’s desperate to come, ready to throw in the towel on their bet.

Yaz pulls back to watch her futile grinding against her cock and shoots her a smirk. “Y’ready to give in yet?”

It’s a mark of how strung out the Doctor is that she doesn’t bother defending her honour. Simply whines and accepts defeat with a pout of her lips. Yaz can never resist that pout.

“Yaz...wanna come,” she pants, never pausing in the rhythmic snap of her hips.

Yaz’s smirk grows wider, ever the cocky winner. “Oh you don’t say?”

“ _Yaz,”_

The Doctor’s jaw drops when Yaz only leans back, hands resting behind her head as if she were simply lying on a beach somewhere. Not in a club with a very wet and desperate Doctor on her lap.

“Think you can come like this, Doctor?”

_Oh the audacity._

“Yaz, want you to make me come,” she groans.

“I am, aren’t I? It’s my cock you’re humping? What’s wrong, Doctor? Not desperate enough?”

That tone again. That teasing, almost condescending tone that reduces all her higher faculties, reduces her to a trembling mess _._

She presses her forehead against Yaz’s, whining. “Yaz, _please_ . ‘M _begging_.”

Yaz chuckles.

“Alright, you can ride me and come. But I want that top off first.”

The Doctor’s eyes widen, and she furtively glances around at the people partying around them.

Yaz holds her chin between two fingers, tilting her face back to look at her. “Colour?”

The Doctor swallows, taking a moment to think about it. She’s still wearing her trousers and those are going to have to be pulled down for her to ride Yaz. If she takes her top off too she’ll be practically nude.

She feels a jolt of arousal at the thought.

 _Oh._ Thats new.

She beams at Yaz. “Green.”

Yaz grins. “Y’really are an exhibitionist, eh?”

The Doctor doesn’t answer, already focused on unbuttoning her shirt with one hand and pulling her trousers down with the other. Yaz helps her take the shirt off and she feels a fresh wave of arousal coat her inner thighs as her torso is laid bare and she pushes her trousers down.

She moans impossibly loud as she slowly eases herself onto the cock, Yaz holding it still for her. She’s so wet it’s a wonder it doesn’t slip right in.

As soon as she’s settled, Yaz reaches up to her chest and flicks off the other nipple clamp. The surprise jolts her into sinking all the way down, taking Yaz’s cock fully into her.

She whimpers, gripping Yaz’s shoulders as she starts bouncing. Slowly at first, then incrementally faster.

Yaz gropes the Doctor’s chest, squeezing her tits hard, a litany of encouragement and praise falling from her lips. The Doctor rides Yaz’s cock for all its worth, clenching around it as if she could milk the silicone dry, as if it’s real flesh.

“Yaz, fuck, gods, Yaz, Yaz!”

A distant part of her mind whispers that she’s babbling nonsense but Yaz only seems to be spurred on by it, thrusting her hips up in tandem with the Doctor’s movements. She brings a hand between them, brushing against the Doctor’s clit with a thumb.

The Doctor keens at the slight touch, canting her hips forward, chasing the friction against her clit. Yaz obliges her, rubbing her clit harder, faster, with single minded purpose.

Her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, an explosion of fireworks, every part of her set ablaze. Like her nerve endings have nerve endings.

She’s pretty sure she’s never come like this in all her lives, utterly blissed out, shuddering uncontrollably against Yaz. Aftershocks hit her body, draining every last sap of energy from her, leaving her completely spent.

The Doctor collapses against Yaz, whimpering when the strap shifts inside her oversensitive cunt. Yaz pats her thigh, urging her to lift her hips so she can slip out.

She whines, not wanting to move away from the warmth of Yaz’s soft body.

“Doctor. Up.”

The Doctor huffs. That _tone_ , again. Really is completely unfair how it forces her to instinctively obey. She shifts, easing up on her knees and clinging tighter to Yaz like a koala when the dildo slips out of her.

Yaz chuckles. “If you’re trying to make me carry you out of here it’s not happening.”

She pouts against Yaz’s neck, too lazy to give her a verbal response.

She feels Yaz shake her head in amusement, but she pets her hair instead of rebuking her any further and the Doctor settles, snuggling into Yaz, not even caring for a second that they’re sitting in a club.

Yaz lets her sit quietly in her arms until she starts to shift, innate restlessness overcoming her exhaustion. She blinks slowly, then shakes her head to clear it before hopping off Yaz’s lap, her girlfriend watching her with a smile on her lips.

“C’mon Yaz! Time to go back to the TARDIS for a good nap!” She tugs her trousers back up, fastening the buckle.

Yaz raises an eyebrow. “Y’gonna put your shirt on before we leave or just strut out of here topless?”

The Doctor grins wide, eyes twinkling with mischief. She raises her arms, stretching them out on either side of her, walking backwards away from Yaz towards the exit.

“Got a name to live up to, Yaz! Doctor the Exhibitionist!”

**Author's Note:**

> all mistakes/typos/etc belong to my sleep deprived ass
> 
> tumblr at softyasmin x


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